“You sonsabitches. I will come to your house, I will pee on everything you love, I’ll melt gouda on your engine block, I’ll post your reject selfies on facebook-“ Darcy huffs, jumping for the top shelf. One arm across her breasts, one arm out-stretched she jumps for that last damn bag of prissy hummus crisps. She misses by a good 1½ inch, again. She glares up at the bag, all but panting with exertion, and wonders if the shelves would support her weight while she climbed for the top. Every fucking time she craves these ridiculous hipster “crisps” they’re on the top shelf. It’s like the grocery stores get a memo from corporate, Darcy Lewis is coming, y’all better put the hipster crisps on the top shelf because remember what she said about your mother? Fuckers.
She casually turns to survey the rest of the isle, and breaks out into a grin when she finds it empty. She rests one foot on the bottom shelf, but when the metal gives after maybe five lbs of her weight, she stands upright with another curse. With another glance around the aisle, she wraps an arm around her boobs to keep the ladies in place and puts everything she has into another leap. She promptly crashes into the shelf, knocks about 30 bags of chip bags to the floor and loses a shoe.
“It’s punishment for being hotter and smarter than you guys isn’t it? You put them on the top shelf and laugh in your skanky ass security office-“
“Ma'am? Would you like some help with that?” A male voice interrupts, sounding amused. Darcy whips around to find- Jesus Christ- a faintly smirking wet dream standing a few feet away. Blond-haired, blue eyed, shoulders you could rest the world on, and a body to make Photoshop cry. He’s wearing a beat up motor-cycle jacket and an expression that’s equal parts amused and concerned. Lord in heaven she would tap that so hard the earth would shake. Darcy smiles, rolls her shoulders back the slightest bit, and oh yes watch those eyes dip down.
“That would be awesome. I swear to you these places move everything I need to the top shelf as soon as I walk in.” Darcy says with a smile she knows for damn sure makes grown men week in the knees. A blush climbs up his face, but he grins back all the same.
“I’m going to go with no comment on that one.” He says, stepping forward. He stops well into her personal space, so close she can feel a long line of heat down her side, and reaches out to grab the bag of crisps. He leaves his hand on the bag but doesn’t pull it down, his arm boxing her in a little. Darcy grins up a him, leaning back to let him get a good look at her. He coughs and looks down at his shoes, seeming embarrassed by his own behavior, but Darcy’s feeling a little manic, a little bold. She rocks onto her toes and reaches up to grab his arm, using it to pull herself closer.
“My grocery story hero, look at you-” she murmurs, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. His head pops up like a spring and he stares at her with wide pretty blue eyes. He lowers his arm and flexes his fingers, like he isn’t sure what to do with his hands. Darcy has about 78 things she could do with his hands off the top of her head, but he seems a little skittish so she keeps them to herself.
He steps back abruptly, but he’s smiling at her, a little desperate, like he’s not quite sure how to proceed. There’s a moment when her brain goes quiet and she thinks this through. She knows that trauma can do strange things to a girl, that a long enough adrenaline rush can change your behavior for ages after. And oh did the last Thor fiasco leave her worse for wear, but damn if she’s going to let that keep her from picking up hot men in grocery stores. The man is staring at her like she’s some sort of wild animal, but his posture is perfect and his eyes flinty, so maybe she’s not the only one who needs to burn off some steam.
“Hiya handsome. The name’s Darcy.” She says, stepping too close and offering her hand to shake. His internal unease, whatever the hell it was, seems to settle and peers down at her with smile that could be lascivious in the right light.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Darcy, I’m Steve.” His voice is lower than it was before and Darcy preemptively congratulates herself on a fuck well deserved. His handshake is firm, and unspeakably careful, like he doesn’t trust himself not to squeeze too hard. Darcy doesn’t know what it says about her that that sends a shiver of heat down her spine, but she doesn’t care either way.
“Since you’re so-“ Darcy lets that hang in the air long enough for Steve to work up another blush- “-tall and all, would you mind helping me out with the rest of my shopping?” She asks, cocking her hip and tilting her head in the least innocent way possible. Steven hesitates again, before grinning at her.
“It would be my pleasure.” Steve says, his earlier disquiet fading like smoke under a wind. Darcy grins and works her arm through his, guiding him back down the aisle, and even though he’s built like Thor, he lets himself be guided with nothing more than bemusement. Darcy started this, admittedly ridiculous, road trip with a plan that only consisted of “get the fuck out of London then get the fuck out of New York.” But she’s a flexible (heh) woman and what better to help her sleep through the nightmares than this blond stranger and his (hopefully) incredible stamina. She leads Steve on a meandering trip through the store, keeping herself plastered to his side all the while. Standing in front of the Gatorade, because hydration is important for sex-marathons, she tilts her head up to look at him.
“Are you from here? Or just visiting? Because honey your accent is Brooklyn or I’m the queen of England.” Darcy says, showing off her hard earned and functionally useless knowledge of regional syntax. Steve goes stiff beside her, his expression panicked as he tries to think of a response. Well damn, good job Lewis.
“I mean, I’m moving to New York soon, new job and shit, so maybe you could give me some pointers, the inside scoop on how not to be killed by cab drivers.” Darcy says, reaching out to snag a random six-pack of Gatorade. Steve relaxes, shaking his head.
“I ah- haven’t lived in New York in a long time. It’s all different now, so I don’t know how much help I’d be.” Steve says with a shrug, plucking the Gatorade out of her hand. He rests it against his hip as Darcy leads them through the next aisle.
“So you don’t live here?” Darcy pushes, because let’s face it, she’s breathing isn’t she. Steve grins down at her, a sort of ‘aww-shucks’ smile that’s probably gotten him out of trouble his whole life. Darcy grins back.
“I’m actually from New York, again I mean. I’m moving back when I’m done with my road trip.” Steve says, pushing against her side playfully. She gets distracted by how warm he is, and the feel of his muscles flexing through his jacket.
“Road trip? Very nice. I’m doing a little of that myself. I mean, I set out like I was going to freaking have a life changing, soundtrack involved adventure, but it’s mostly just been shitty hotel rooms and diner food.” Darcy says, not feeling as put out by that fact as she had been before, before tall blond and fuckable walked into the picture. Steve snorts, then laughs, sounding surprised by the whole affair.
“Ah yeah, my trip has been a bit like that. You’d think that the food would be at least a little different from state to state, but I think I’ve eaten the same damn burger in every joint I’ve stopped at.” Steve says, grimacing. It’s altogether adorable and Darcy somehow resists the urge to pinch his ass. Instead she settles for getting this show on the road.
“There’s just one more aisle and then we’re done.” Darcy says, bright and cheerful. He shoots her a glance out of the corner of his eyes that says he knows she’s up to something. Darcy leans more heavily on him, but he holds her weight like she’s nothing more than a feather, and oh my does that get distracting. She feels flushed all over, excited and happy for the first time since she fled London. She leads him out of the food section by leaning shamelessly on him, giggling as he grins and pretends to stagger in the intended direction. They spend a minute or so wandering the hygiene and makeup aisles before Darcy spots what she wants.
As she leads him to the desired shelf, her heartbeat picks up speed and she feels a flush settle on her face. He looks down at her, eyebrows pinched with concern and confusion, before turning to look at the shelf. His face gets red to fast Darcy fears she may have broken him. The condom and lube boxes are bright and neatly lined up, in staggering variety. Neither of them move, arms still interwoven. Without thinking about it, Darcy holds her breath, because here it is. The million dollar, fuck a stranger in a hotel room, question. Maybe she came on too strong? Maybe he really was just being polite? Maybe there are safer ways to work off steam-
Steve reaches out, slowly, fingers just shy of a box of plain Trojan condoms. His hands are steady, but tense, as if he’s making them that way by force. Size large, Darcy notices with a sense of wholly justifiable glee. He snatches the box and drops his hand to his side, as if to hide it from view, his face still red. Darcy reaches out with her free hand to tug on the front of his jacket, gently pulling him down to her. He blinks in surprise as Darcy presses a chaste kiss against his lips.
“What are you doing tonight? And you know, this entire weekend?” Darcy asks, perfectly innocent save for her hand still clutching his jacket. He seems uncertain, so Darcy backs off with an internal sigh. Seeing her retreat, his eyes go wide with panic.
“I’m not- I mean, I’m free if you wanted. I’ve just never done anything like… this before, I’m sorry if I’m being weird.” He says, his eyes downcast as he shuffles about.
“Do you want to? I mean, I know I’m amazing and everything, but seriously, if you’re uncomfortable I won’t freak out or get all judgey, okay?” Darcy says, being as serious as she can without alcohol. Steve rubs the back of his neck, seeming sheepish.
“I’m good, I promise. New situations and all.” He says with a shrug. Darcy gets that, she does. Not everyone is immediately comfortable going home with a stranger, and Steve seems pretty old school anyway. But he leans into her space with a smile and she sees his pupils dilate within seconds. That’s what a girl likes to see.
“Where are you staying at? Is it better than a Motel Six?” Darcy asks, reaching out to snag a bottle of warming lube. He blushes again.
“It’s called the Drifter Motel.” He admits with a grimace.
“You’re fucking with me.”
“Not yet.” He blurts, seeming to startle himself. Darcy grins and punches him in the shoulder.
“Look at you. Was that just the dirtiest thing you’ve ever said?” Darcy asks, waggling her eyebrows at him. He shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets and shuffling about again.
“I’m ex-military. The boys talked a lot of shit, so I’m not exactly pure as driven snow here.” He says, with just enough bitterness that Darcy figures he’s had some problems with virgin hunters. She steps back to get a better look at the whole of him, and oh there you go, in his posture, in the way his eyes track the people around them, she probably should have caught that earlier.
“Hey, that’s cool. I’ve got friends who are more reserved than I am, I mean, not that it’s hard, but you know what I mean. Not everyone can have my glorious absence of filters.” She says, twining her arm through his again, to lead him to the registers. This is getting a little complicated for a grocery store hookup, but she likes Steve. He’s attractive as fuck, funny in a dry way, and best of all, willing to roll with the punches.
“Different strokes for different folks.” He says, reaching over the grab the lube from her hand. He rolls it across his palm a few times before settling it in alongside the box of condoms.
“So you’re saying you have unplumbed depths?”
“I have hidden depths.” He says archly, with an exaggeratedly superior expression. Darcy giggles, leaning on him to guide him to an open register. He hands her the Gatorade back and pays for the lube and condoms with nary a blush in sight, giving the smirking cashier another ‘aww-shucks’ smile. Darcy bites through a smirk, as he accepts his receipt with a polite ‘thank you, have a nice day.’ She would bet her best vibrator that he gets away will all sorts of things using his seemingly oblivious demeanor and smiling like that.
The cashier smirks at her, nodding between Steve and Darcy with a raised eyebrow. Darcy hands him her card with a smug grin and a nod. The cashier promptly high-fives her, and Steve confirms her theory of being artificially oblivious by raising his eyebrows in shock at the two of them. Uh-huh, you sneaky little fuck, Darcy thinks with delight. She takes her bag of sex-fuel from the cashier with another high five and saunters over to Steve. She pokes him in the chest and he raises his eyebrow at her.
“How much trouble do you get out of by playing your little ‘aww-shucks’ act?” Darcy accuses, not bothering to hide her amusement. He goes still as if in shock, before a low-down dirty grin breaks out over his face.
“Well you’ll just have to find out.” He says, offering her his arm. Darcy takes it with all due dignity, but the affect is ruined by her full-body laughter. As they’re exiting the store he turns and makes an apologetic face at her.
“I really am staying at the Drifter Motel.”
“Seriously? Are you trying to get killed? Do you have enough hobo-stab insurance?” Darcy asks, waving her hand at him for emphasis. He leans back to avoid being smacked in the face, grinning at her in delight.
“Would you hold it against me if I say I like to live dangerously?”
“Yes I would you absolute dork!” Darcy says, smacking him in the arm again. Steve unwinds his arm from hers and backs away with his hands up, trying to seem apologetic but failing pretty hard at it.
“Let me go get my bike and I’ll follow you to the hotel?” Steve asks, pointing towards a gorgeous a motor cycle a few rows down. Darcy gets a little weak in the knees.
“Yeah, I’m in the red Kia over there, I’ll pull around to meet you.” Darcy says, pointing to her rental car. He nods and takes off at a jog. As soon as he’s out of hearing range, Darcy pulls her cell phone out of her pocket and dials Jane. Thankfully her friend isn’t so deep in a science groove she doesn’t notice the phone ringing.
“Have you already gotten tired of you Epic Road Trip?” Jane says, sounding hopeful. Darcy sighs. For someone as smart as Jane, the woman is lost without Darcy. She can make huge science rainbow bridge discoveries but is apparently incapable of remembering to eat or hell, even sleep.
“Not yet. I’m just calling to activate Rule 7.” Darcy says, walking quickly towards her car. Rule 7: When hooking up with a dude, always let someone know. If I don’t call or text you in four hours, call the police and wipe my browser history. That rule was emblazed on a chalkboard in the New Mexico lab and Darcy still wishes she could have seen the face of the agent who stole it. Jane squeals loud in her ear and Darcy unlocks her car with a grin.
“Oh my god really? What’s he like?” While Jane has been getting regular attention from her god of thunder boyfriend, she still understands the importance of hot guys in Darcy’s life. It’s one of her best qualities as a person, Darcy thinks. She throws her bags into the passenger seat, holding the phone between her shoulder and ear.
“Remember that American men pinup calendar I have?” Darcy asks, starting the car.
“He’s like a much hotter Mr. July. And he rides a motorcycle, I swear to Thor.”
“Damn! Get some!”
“Oh, I intend to.” Darcy says, waving to Steve as she drives by.
At the Hotel, Steve parks beside her car and opens the door for her as she gets out. He holds the shopping back with the lube and condoms slightly away from his body, as if they might bite him. He looks nervous, hands jammed into his pockets, faint blush on his cheeks, but his expression is intent, almost hungry. Another spark of heat trills through her as Darcy winds her arm through his. They meander towards the hotel, saying nothing, but there’s an electric sort of awareness between them that leaves her feeling breathless. Steve starts to fidget once they get inside and he keeps grinning down at her at the oddest times.
Once they get to the elevator bays, Darcy takes a surreptitious glance around before slipping her arm out from under his and giving him a shove. He backs up obligingly, grinning at her. Darcy backs him into the wall, before grabbing his neck and pulling him close for a kiss. He goes still, before cupping her face to pull her closer. Darcy sucks his lower lip, catches his tongue with hers, and he gives a full body shudder. Much more of this and he’ll be falling to the floor, and it’s a lovely thought, but Darcy figures exhibitionism is something to be negotiated beforehand. She pulls back and he follows, holding onto the kiss for another long and slick few seconds, but she finally manages to extract herself. They pant across each others lips and Darcy doesn’t bother hiding her smug grin. He rolls his eyes at her and reaches out to press the “up” button.
In the elevator, they manage not to make out like teenagers, but Darcy does lean against him to rest her head on his magnificent pectorals. He’s not weaning any cologne, and it’s lovely, because he smells clean and masculine good enough to eat. He presses a kiss to her hair and smiles at her in the mirrored doors. Her heart does a little stutter at such unexpected sweetness, but she’s saved by the doors opening. She leads him into the hall and to her room with a pounding heart. As she retrieves her keycard out of her pocket, her crowds her from behind, placing a kiss first on her crown, then the side of her neck. It’s more of that unexpected affection, as if she’s more than just a girl who picked him up at the grocery store.
He draws her hair aside to place another, more lingering kiss to the other side of her neck, and she almost fumbles the card. He chuckles, low and smug. His breath is warm on her neck, and his hands rest on her hips. His fingers run gentle tracks along her hipbones and it takes three tries to get the damn door open. He laughs into her hair, soft and happy, and god what’s wrong with her it’s only been an hour, but it sends a trill of happiness through that that is completely unrelated to sex.
She pushes the thought away and finally turns the handle to open the door. They stumble through and Steve has her pressed her against the wall within seconds. His hands come up to cup her face, his lips catching hers. She opens to him, titling her head back and pressing her breasts up against his chest. It’s slick and desperate within seconds, Steve’s hands are shaking where they cup her neck, he groans and she answers. He has more energy than skill, but she’s already wet and desperate herself. He pulls back only to kiss her again, shallow and sloppy, a back and forth tide that has her whining and panting, leaning forward to catch his lips. But he laughs, sounding almost surprised, and presses her tighter against the wall to pin her still.
In retaliation, she runs her hands under his shirt, drags her fingernails lightly over the hard planes of his stomach, and he jerks back with a laugh. He grins at her, lips already bruised and shiny, his eyes blown wide with arousal. Just the sight of him makes her breast ache, her clit feeling so tight it’s almost a burn. He slides his hands slide down from her neck, carefully avoiding her breasts, to settle them prim and proper around her waist. Darcy starts to giggle before she can help herself. Steve jerks back, a guilty expression on his face, and Darcy reaches out to grab his wrist before he can skitter away.
“Shit sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you. It just took me by surprise. You stick your tongue down my mouth but you’ve got your middle school dance hands on.” Darcy says, bracing against his chest to lever herself up. She kisses him and it’s almost chaste, once, twice. When she leans back, he’s still a little tense, but he rests his hands on back her waist without protest. Her body is humming with need, with energy, but Darcy makes herself take a deep breath. People don’t do things without a reason, and Steve probably has some good reasons.
“Is this okay? Like, I know I come on strong, but if this is freaking you out, you have to tell me.” Darcy says, slipping into the half lecturing, half threatening voice she’s used so many time on her sisters and friends. Steve flexes his fingers and ducks in for another kiss before answering.
“I mean, I’m nervous but-“ Steve cuts himself off with a vicious shake of his head and clenched jaw, obviously impatient with himself. Darcy has another moment to consider that she always picks the complicated ones, even for one night stands. She reaches up and runs a finger along his jaw, gives gentle pressure, and he turns his head back towards her.
“Hey, this isn’t a contest or anything. I want to be here with you. Do you want to be here with me?” Darcy says, running her fingers over his cheekbones. He leans into her touch and watches her with eyes deep and weary. He nods. Darcy’s heart all but flutters and she resists the urge to coo at him as a reward for good behavior.
“Then that’s all that matters.” She says.
“I don’t have much experience though. I don’t want to mess up.” Steve says with a casual shrug so fake it could run for president.
“Honey, do you know that the secret to good sex is?” Darcy says, running her hands up and down his stomach, dipping a little closer to his belt buckle each time. He swallows.
“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?” He sounds a little cranky, a little put out, but he’s smiling so Darcy isn’t too worried. She’s cooled off from the mad rush of entering the room, but her arousal is still there, making her skin feel too tight and over-warm.
“The secret is talking. I’ll tell you what I like, you’ll tell me what you like. And if you don’t know, we’ll experiment and then you’ll tell me what you like.” Darcy leers at him for good measure. Steve’s abdominals jump under her fingers and he gives it his all for a leer, which is so cute she has to jump him. Without warning, she slides her hands up to his shoulders and jumps, trusting him catch her. And he does, his hands sliding possessively under her ass and hoisting her higher so she can wrap her legs around his waist. They end up eye to eye, grinning and panting at each other. His arms don’t even shake and Darcy feels another rush of wet heat.
“This is the part where you take me to bed.” Darcy says, winking at him. Steve laughs, burying his face against her neck, his huge shoulders shaking. Darcy is always up for making an attractive man laugh, but really, if she doesn’t get fucked soon she might Hulk out or something. So she leans her head against his and tells him so.
“Honey, I’d really like you to fuck me now. Or least, get your hands somewhere other than the PG13 zone.” She kisses his ear for emphasis. Steve is nothing if not a quick study because he’s crossing the room to the bed and sitting down on the edge, settling her across his lap. Darcy hmmmms in pleasure and rolls her hips against his, trying to get more pressure against her aching clit. Even through two layers of jeans, she can feel that he’s thick and so hard.
Clothed like this, it should be nothing to write home about, but god the way Steve throws his head back and groans leaves her feeling faint with arousal. His neck is long, all clean lines like debauchery’s thrown glove and Darcy rolls her hips again because she has to, she fucking has to. His breath stutters and his hips jerk, so Darcy rocks harder against him, her own breath a high whine in her ears.
She pulls his head back to hers and slants her lips across his, slick and uncoordinated. His hips never stop their back and forth motion and god oh sweet fuck just a little more pressure and she could come. She pulls back by sheer force of will and it takes a long moment for Steve to get the message, but he stops rocking his hips and his hands clench on her waist. He’s shaking with the exertion of holding himself still, all those coiled muscles tense and expectant as his eyes stare into hers. Her breath leaves like she’s been punched, but she soldiers through it.
“Is there anything in particular you want to do?” Darcy asks, panting. Steve grins, bright and clear.
“You, for one.” He responds, cheeky. Darcy giggles, and rests her head on his shoulder to get herself under control.
“Well yeah, duh. I meant any particular positions or…” Darcy trails off, twining her fingers through the short hairs at the back of his neck. His eyes get a little wide, a little startled and Darcy so totally gets it. When she first started having sex it was overwhelming. Even though she wasn’t nervous about the act itself, her inexperience made her feel at a disadvantage. When Steve continues to open his mouth, close it, repeat, Darcy steps in.
“How about this. I’ll take the reins a little and if you don’t like something, tell me. If you think of something you want to try, tell me. Sound good?” Darcy says, trying to lug her thoughts back from their headlong ‘fuck yes good fucking lets do it oh my god look at his biceps’ sprint. Steve nods, looking a bit like someone’s knocked him in the head with a bat. Darcy is more than familiar with the look.
“I think I can take one for the team.” Steve says seriously. Darcy snorts.
“As long as you’re good to take directions.” Darcy says. There’s another one of those odd pauses, where Steve sorts his thoughts outs. Darcy lets him have it, because everyone’s got their own shit.
“Yeah, I think I can do that.” Steve says. Darcy rewards him with a kiss. It gets deep and dirty, fast. But Darcy manages to extract herself, stumbling to her feet. Steve starts to get up but she waves him back.
“Stay there, I’m just getting the supplies. Actually no, stay there but also be naked while doing it.” Darcy says, looking back at him over her shoulder. He’s leaning back on his hands, hair and shirt rumpled, the thick outline of his cock straining the fabric of his jeans. He grins at her and begins to unbutton his shirt, so Darcy turns away before she gets distracted and does something like sink to her knees and see what kinds of noises she can wring from him. The plastic shopping bag lays discarded by the door and Darcy absolutely makes a show of bending down to retrieve it. The soft rustling sounds of Steve undressing pauses for a moment and Darcy grins as she plucks the condom box and lube out of the bag. She turns around to find Steve standing upright now, stripped all the way down to his blue boxer-briefs. Fuck. God, he’s what Greek gods wish they could be, his skin gleaming with sweat, his briefs distended and damp from his apparently spectacular cock.
“I’d like to thank god and also Jesus.” Darcy says, making herself walk, not sprint, back to the bed. Steve laughs and does this bashful little shuffle that obviously means Darcy has to cup him through his briefs. Steve huffs, like he’s just been hit in the solar-plexus, and his hips tilt towards her hand hard enough to knock her off balance. But that’s okay, because Darcy grabs his bicep and holds on, her hand stroking him through his desperate bucking. He’s just as thick and wonderful as he looked from across the room, and she traces the shape of him with her fingers as he shudders and groans. All those glorious muscles flex against her and she needs to be naked, like yesterday. When she pulls back Steve makes a wordless sound of protest that turns her knees to mush. So she grabs his hands and guides them to the bottom of her shirt. Steve stares at her, panting and shaking, obviously on his last two brain cells. Darcy smiles.
“Wanna undress me?” She asks, trying to make it seductive or hell even playful but her voice is too breathy to pull it off. Steve nods, grinning at her. Seeming more confident now, he pulls at the soft material of her shirt and tugs it up over her head. They have to stop and laugh at each other when it gets a little caught around her head, but soon she’s standing in her pretty lace bra. Steve stares at her breasts he like can find the answers to the universe in her cleavage, and to be fair, who’s to say he won’t.
His hands slide up her stomach, warm and so big he they can stretch all the way across. Her breath comes faster, and all of sudden she starts feeling overwhelmed. Like this moment, right here, will ripple out past tangled sheets and comfort in the dark. But Steve, wearing a look of intense concentration, rubs his thumbs across her nipples and that thought is thankfully swept away under a tide of pleasure. She lets out a shuddery breath and Steve grins like he just figured out the key to differential calculus. Darcy decides to reward his effort by reaching back to un-clasp her bra, and when he figures out what she’s doing his eyes get huge. She lets the moment stretch on, holding the bra up just by the straps before pulling it off to drop on the floor.
Steve’s hands don’t waste time cupping her, but to her complete surprise he doesn’t spend five minutes playing ‘look what I’ve found’ like every other partner she’s had. Instead he sits down again and pulls her to straddle his lap once more. She kneels on the bed and looks down at him, opens her mouth to say something, to tease him, but the words die in her throat at the look on his face. It’s… intense. Neither of them says a word, but they do trade soft kisses back and forth in a silent sort of conversation.
“Have any ideas yet?” Darcy finally asks, settling herself firmly atop Steve’s clothed erection. Steve contemplatively sucks her lower lip into his mouth, running his hands up and down her back. He lets her go with one last slide of his tongue.
“I think I’m still okay with you calling the shots.” He says, his gaze intent and piercing upon hers. Darcy’s heart does a funny sort of flip slop and she hastily stands up. Steve gives her a curious look, but says nothing as she strips out of her jeans and underwear. She takes a moment to be grateful she neatened her bikini line yesterday and smiles wide at Steve to cover her unease. Not that’s she averse to idea of something past of a one night stand with Steve, because god is the man sweet and funny and gorgeous, but they’re both on road-trips and who knows when they’d be in New York together. But the way he looks at her, Darcy shivers, it’s like he doesn’t understand the concept of a one night stand.
“I don’t usually come from just penetration, so I prefer to get off beforehand.” Darcy says, walking back to the bed. Steve looks a little stricken.
“So you don’t want to- I mean- is it even-“
“Oh honey, sex feels awesome and I want to have lots of it with you. But I don’t usually orgasm from penetration alone.” Darcy says, reaching out for Steve’s hand. He makes an ‘oh I see’ expression and scoots back on the bed. Darcy climbs up and after a few misunderstood hand signals, she ends up leaning back against the headboard with Steve kneeling between her spread legs. He looks nervous again so she pulls him down into a kiss, and by the time they come up for air, she feels one good stroke away from orgasm and he’s relaxed again. She leans back on her elbows and prepared to explain the magical ins and outs of her clitoris.
“I have an idea now.” Steve says, reaching out to circle her clit with his thumb. Darcy gasps, her hips almost coming off the bed. He all but leers at her and she can’t help but giggle again. He doesn’t seem to mind though, settling down on his stomach and supporting himself with his elbows. With that same look of intense concentration that somehow reminds her of defusing a bomb, he gently eases one finger into her. She clenches down reflexively, so keyed up she tries to fuck herself back on it. But he doesn’t give her anything to work against, because he just circles her sensitive opening, barely thrusting in and out.
“Steve-“ she gasps “I needed to come like an hour ago so could you please get with the program.” Steve just grins at her, and oh sugar wouldn’t melt in his mouth, the little shit. But he adds a second finger and works his thumb on the underside of her clit. She feels overheated, shifting restlessly about while he works her fast between finger and thumb. She’s making these little catching moans, but what the fuck does she care, because she can feel her orgasm building like a freight strain. But then he backs off, pulling his thumb away and Darcy is going to give him such hell- when he leans down to lick a stripe over her clit. He doesn’t pause before sucking on it, his tongue flicking fast and hard. And that’s it, she’s done. She comes with a wail, her hips bowing up off the bed before Steve slams her back down, still sucking fiercely. He continues past the point where she’s oversensitive, so Darcy bats at his head until he comes up for air. He crosses his arms on her pelvis and rests his head on the, wet-lipped and smug. She pats his cheek.
“Gold star, 10/10 would come again.” She says, still gasping for air. Steve, somehow, manages to seem smugger. While Darcy has normally wants at least two orgasms before the show gets started, she’s ramped up now, her orgasm barely dampening the fire. She forces strength into her wobbly arms and starts to sit up.
“Alright cowboy, underwear off and sit on the edge of the bed.” She says, as she staggers upright and over to the condom box on the floor. Jesus, why didn’t she leave these on the bed? She fumbles a strip of them out before tossing the box aside and turning back to the bed. Steve did as instructed and he’s fucking magnificent. He’s in much the same pose as before, leaning back on his hands and presented like a reward from the universe. His cock is thankfully proportional, uncut, about average length but god is he thick.
As Darcy stares, his hands clench on the bed like it’s taking all he has not to move. He’s taken orders beautifully so far, but his blood must be up now, because his eyes are hungry and demanding in a way they weren’t before. And he does so deserve a reward. Revising her original plan she walks over to him and tugs him into a kiss. He surges forward to pull her tight against him. He’s pushier now, his tongue forceful against hers, angling her face as he wants it. Uh huh, she thinks, he wants the reins. To test the waters she pulls back, and it takes him a short moment to notice but he immediately releases her and buries his fingers back in the sheets again. His sweat shined chest is heaving, and his hands clench in the bedspread to stop himself from touching, but all he does is watch her with hooded eyes.
“Want a position that gives you the controls?” She asks, reaching down to grab his cock, and it’s lovely, hot and silky and probably hard enough to cut diamonds. He shudders against her, pressing a kiss to the side of her breast while he acclimates to the sensation. Finally he leans back to meet her eyes, and she can almost see the cogs in his head whirring as he figures out what he wants. She carefully strokes down his length, rolling his foreskin back so she can get to the sensitive underside of his head. He shudders again, groaning.
“I think I’d like that, if you’d like that.” He manages, a long moment later. Darcy rewards his correct answer by rubbing her thumb back and forth across his glans.
“I would love that, I’ve been wanting to see what those muscles of yours can do.” She says, grinning at him. He kisses her breasts again and mutters something that might have been ‘you and me both.’ She buries her hands in his hair, before tugging him upright. When he’s upright again, she steps back to open the condom wrapper. She considers showing off and putting it on him with her mouth, but she knows if she gets down there she’ll get distracted and it would be ages before she finally got him in her. She aches with how empty she feels, and so tables the idea for later. Steve’s watching her like he’s a predator now and damn if that’s not something she can get behind. She rolls the condom down him with minimal fanfare, but she does stop to rub her thumb over his head again, to watch him curse and writhe.
“Ready?” She asks. He grins at her, pulling her in for a bruising kiss. He pulls back, kisses her again, before nodding.
“When you are.” He says, his voice low. Darcy reaches down to feel herself, pinching her clit and dipping two fingers inside to see how wet she is, how tight she feels. A moan rips its way out of Steve, as if he has no control over the sound. She pumps her fingers in and out a few times, and thankfully she’s not so tight this will hurt, before pulling them out. She turns around, looking back over her shoulder at him, and steps back into the space between his spread legs. He catches on fast, does Steve, because he lifts her up to straddle his lap, her legs on the outside of his, stretched open, with her back to his chest. She tips her head back to rest on his shoulder, and he kisses his way down her neck. She grins and reaches down to guide him in. At the first press of his cock inside her, Steve’s arms encircle her, and he bites down on her shoulder with a muffled whine. Darcy grins and slowly, oh so slowly, sinks down on him. The stretch, god the breadth of him, is a delicious burn. Behind her Steve is heaving for breath, little moans escaping with every exhale. In this position she might not have leverage, but god is she in control. She angles her head to kiss the side of his face, and he turns to catch her lips with his, his hand coming up to support her neck. The angle is wrong, so it’s more that they breathe each other’s air, but Steve stops shaking and his arms relax.
“How’re you doing?” Darcy whispers, clenching down tight, feeling the burn all the way down her stomach. Steve shudders.
“Fuck. Fucking- hell. Jesus.” He says against her lips and Darcy laughs. The feel of it makes him buck up instinctively, far harder than she would have expected from this position. But it’s good, and she lets’ out a little ‘ahh’ as he slams home. She reaches back with one arm to encircle his head and grab his shoulder, changing the angle inside her.
“I’m good to go when you are handsome.” Darcy says, stretching like a cat. Tentatively he thrusts up, not as hard as before, but with the new angle it works. Again, again, Darcy’s moaning long and loud, Steve’s cursing and snarling. He works up steam, fast and hard she bounces on his lap, spread and open and helpless to do anything but just take it. She throws her head back, already lost under a deluge of heat and pleasure that sweeps her away. She can tell he’s already close, his thrusts start to falter and lose rhythm, and nu huh, not now.
“Slow down, come on sweetie, make it last.” She says, her voice jarred with each thrust. Steve stops altogether, his huge frame shaking with exertion, and she can feel his heart thundering. He whines through his teeth and Darcy shushes him. She releases her hold on his shoulder to move his hands, so that one arm is supporting her under her breasts. They’re both panting, almost sobbing with want, but she knows if they drag this out she can make him come like he’s never dreamed of. She grabs his other hand and slides it down her stomach, and shows his fingers how to work her clit. Steve curses, and Darcy starts a careful roll of her hips, to show him how. She undulates up and back, Steve’s hips following, circling now, instead of thrusting. She lets her head loll back against his shoulder, and he kisses her neck again instantly, like he can’t help himself.
“Feel that?” She whispers, the frenzied energy from before slowed to something languid, intimate.
“Yeah…” He sounds awed, broken apart and Darcy knows the feeling. His left hands rises to cover her heart and his right splays over his pelvis, taking control of their slow rocking. He works his fingers against her clit, sweat slides over their skin, and Darcy feels like she’s coming apart. He kisses down her neck, and she goes limp, while her orgasm builds in inexorable increments of gasps and strokes of his fingers.
She doesn’t know if it’s not enough anymore, or too much, but the slow drag of him in and out of her is almost perfect. She’s gasping, high in the back of her throat. She tightens her fingers around his and he falters for a moment before continuing, as she leads his right hand down to where they’re joined. He groans, low and dirty in her ear, and Darcy turn to grin against his lips. She traces her stretched entrance with his fingers, and he leans back to keep her immobile as he takes over. It’s perfect now with the added burn of his fingers, and as her orgasm floods through her, she’s crying out, thrashing in his grasp. It goes on for what feels like ever, wave after wave of heat, even as he loses the rhythm and pounds to his own finish.
They lie there, slumped and dazed, Steve slowly going soft while Darcy’s entire body sluggishly reboots. He presses sloppy kisses to her throat, her face, anywhere he can reach, and his hand stays pressed over her heart. Jesus, she thinks, I am so in over my head.
She wakes up feeling overheated, smothered, and smug down to her bones. They’ve migrated to the center of the bed, Darcy on her side with Steve wrapped around her like a smooth skinned blanket. His leg is thrown over hers, and his arm fits over her waist like it’s made to be there, his hand still pressed firmly over her heart. His face is buried in her hair and Darcy has a moment of panic, because everything feels a little too good, too right. But she turns her face into the pillow and takes a few breaths to calm herself. Chill, you have all weekend, it’s just endorphins, she tells herself.
A faint buzz comes from her pants, one, twice, again, before Darcy realizes it’s her phone. Jane, Rule 7, crap she forgot to check in. With a groan she starts to wiggle out from under Steve, and she feels him go from asleep to alert in seconds. He smiles against the back of her neck as she untangles their limbs. Darcy staggers off the bed, ignoring his snort of amusement, and digs around in her jeans for her phone. She has several unread texts, and two missed calls, all from Jane. They texts are all vaguely hysterical, but Jane doesn’t seemed to have called the cops yet, which is a plus. She fires off a smug text, remembering to include the “this is actually me and not my murderer” password at the last minute. That accomplished she drops the phone and indulges in a long stretch, grinning at the way Steve’s eyes track the movement. The dying sunlight from the window makes him look the cover of some housewife erotica novel, with his miles of gold skin and the sheet barely covering his groin. Just looking at him send a curl of heat through her.
“Ever had shower sex?” Darcy asks, because inquiring minds and all that. Steve stretches and hauls himself upright, the play of muscles under his skin all but mesmerizing.
“No, I have not.”
“Well we can fix that.”
Darcy has never bought into the idea what you can actually have sex up against the wall, with a man supporting your whole weight. She doesn’t know about the rest of the world, but Steve apparently can. He held her up around his waist and fucked her through two screaming orgasms, his earlier hair trigger a thing of the past. It was so good she lost her fine motor skills for a while. Later, they only manage to drag themselves out of the shower, into some clothes and out of the room in a truly herculean effort.
Now they’re wandering through the little tourist trap of a mountain town, arm in arm again, as they try to decide on somewhere to eat. It’s a cool day for summer, since it’s Montana and all, and the town itself reminds her of postcards and the sort of summer vacations her family avoided like the plague. If she had her way, they’d still be fucking like bunnies but Steve’s stomach keeps making a series of really off-putting noises, like a garbage disposal got hung-over and decided to Vine about it. His stomach lets out a particularly loud gurgle and Darcy snorts, reaching over to poke his stomach. Steve shrugs, looking sheepish.
“I have a high metabolism.” He says, poking her back. Darcy eyes him up and down.
“That and maybe a monster living in your stomach.” She says dubiously, as his stomach makes a noise she’s sure she heard before in a sci-fi movie. He laughs, but his shoulders are tight with tension, so she lets the topic drop. They’ve come finally across a restaurant that isn’t a diner so she’s ready to call it quits and eat some food of dubious quality. She nods her at the restaurant and Steve shrugs in agreement. Darcy gets the feeling he’d clean his plate of anything no matter what, but it’s not something she has time to prove. The inside is just as forgettable as the outside, but she didn’t come for the fine dining. Steve is scrupulously polite to the hostess and waiter, something she appreciates after years of waiting tables in college. After they settles and the waiter walks off with their drink orders, Darcy slides down in her seat to stretch her legs out under the table. She settles her toes under his thigh with a grin at his raised eyebrows.
“Tell me something about yourself.” She demands, flipping through the menu with minimal interest. Steve seems equal parts delighted and hesitant, but Darcy’s getting used to that.
“Something like what?”
“Anything. You tell me a fact, I tell you a fact.” She says, against her better judgment. This has already gotten too… feelings already, but fuck if she can stop herself now.
“I’m an artists, I draw.” He says, with another ‘aww-shucks’ smile. Darcy bet’s herself 20 bucks that when asked, he’ll say he’s not that good.
“Are you any good?” She says, grabbing a napkin and unfolding it.
“I’m alright, nothing special,” He shrugs. Darcy resist the urge to fist pump the air.
“Uh huh. Well then you’ll have to draw me something so I can see for myself.” She says, digging in her purse for a pen. Jane, despite now having the funding for as many computers as she could ever want, still writes in pen. Which of course means that Darcy has a pen on her at all times. She slides the napkin and pen over to Steve with a smirk. Before he can reply, the waiter comes back to take their orders. Steve orders two club sandwiches and a side of fries, while Darcy orders the house pasta special which looks half decent and difficult to fuck up.
“You weren’t lying about the fast metabolism thing, huh?” Darcy asks, amused. Steve blushes and busies himself with sketching on the napkin, but the effect is ruined by the thousand-watt grin splitting his face.
“You said you’d tell me something if I told you something.” He says, peeking up from his drawing. Darcy hmmms, trying to think of something that isn’t so personal without sounding like that that’s her intention. She’d like to spare herself some heartache, thanks.
“I can’t sing worth a damn. I sound like a dying cat.” She says, making Steve snort in laughter. It’s true, a fact her sisters reminded her of at least once a day, which lead to Darcy singing everything she said for a straight week until they pleaded for mercy.
“I can’t dance.” He offers, suddenly shy. Darcy believes it too. Most of the time he moves with a surety of motion that dancers would envy, but every so often, when he’s taken by surprise, he gets a little awkward. Like he’s not quite connected to his body and there’s a lag in the response time.
“Look, I’m going to tell you a secret. No one knows how to dance.” She says waving a straw at him for emphasis. He raises his eyebrow at her in disbelief.
“No seriously. I mean, only white people and rich people use dances with steps anymore. Okay, you might have to waltz, but that’s the easiest dance the world.” Darcy says, remembering desperate dancing lessons with her sisters, only to realize that no one at prom knew how to dance. Steve seems unconvinced, half-caught in his own thoughts.
“You’re probably right about that, but I don’t know how to dance any other way either.” He says, furiously scribbling away his napkin.
“Okay well dance floors are mostly people rubbing up against each other and pretending to know what they’re doing. So I guess that’s the secret to dancing. Just wiggle around and look really serious about it.” Darcy demonstrates the wiggling, much to Steve and other diner’s amusement.
“I’ll take your word for it.” He says with a laugh. After a pause, Darcy pokes him with her foot.
“If you hadn’t… approached me I would have asked you out anyway.” Steve says, his gaze suddenly heavy upon hers. His expression is serious, intense, like it had been in the hotel room. Darcy’s having a hard time breathing, all of a sudden.
“Seriously?” She asks, more surprised that he would take the initiative. She’s feeling a little faint, her thoughts beginning to feel muddled, which is not going to end well, she can already tell.
“Seriously.” He nods, earnest and handsome enough to bruise. When she doesn’t say anything for a long moment, he reaches out to poke her with the pen.
“I want to see you when we get back to New York.” Darcy blurts, the words catching up to her about a second after she says them. Shit fucking fuck- she leans forward in her seat, backpedaling for all she’s worth.
“I mean- that is-“
“You too? I mean, you’d really want to see me after this?” Steve says, dropping the pen in shock. He breaks out into a grin, sudden and blinding like a lightning strike. What. Slowly, she nods.
“That’s swell- I mean that’s awesome. I really want to see you again after this, go out on a date or something. I just didn’t want to come off as, well, creepy.” He says, leaning across the table to grab her hand. For maybe the first time ever, she blushes, causing Steve to laugh.
“Honey we fucked in a hotel room like an hour after we met, creepy is pretty much subjective at this point.” She points out, still mostly in shock. Steve laughs, releasing her hand with one last squeeze.
“Good point. But you know what I mean.” He says, waving his pen at her. She does know what he means, so she shrugs unrepentantly. She’s feeling almost woozy with relief. This man could be… a lot to her. She know it, feels it like kinetic energy under her skin. It’s barely been hours but she thinks they could be something great together, if given half a chance. It’s not love, not by a long shot, and she barely know him, but she wants to. She really, really wants to. And that scares her in a wholly different, worse, way than the potential end of the world did.
“So. I’ll be back in new New York in like two weeks?” She makes it a question for some damn reason, maybe because she’s so thrown by the turn of events. She hadn’t even finished telling herself to not want more before he gave himself up on a silver platter.
“That would be-“ He’s cut off the sound of a cell phone, one of generic ones that sounds like an old fashion phone ringing. Since her ringtone is “Fuck the pain away” by Peaches, Darcy bet’s it’s his. He looks around in confusion before realizing the sound is coming from him.
“I’m sorry I have to take this, it’s my work number and no one ever calls unless it’s an emergency.” He seems so regretful it almost hurts, and Darcy gets it, life happens. She waves him off with a smile, grateful for a few more seconds to process. He pulls out the latest StarkPhone and answers with a sort of exaggerated precision that makes her think he’s never had a smart phone before.
“Hello? What- are you serious- wait, let me go outside.” Steve says, mouthing “I’m sorry” at her before all but sprinting out the door. She wonders what exactly he does. He’s fit like nothing she’s ever seen, and his mannerisms are still high strung and alert, as if he still sees combat. But then again, he could be paranoid and fit at a desk job, not that she can really see him as an accountant. Leaning her elbow on the table, Darcy rests her head in her hands. This is all happening really fast.
All she wanted was to bang the hot guy from the grocery store and continue on her aimless road trip in a better mood, but fuck if he didn’t throw a wrench right into her plans. It’s barely been hours, but she wants to get to know Steve, like a lot, and damnit to hell Jane is going to laugh her ass off. Before she can get lots in her thoughts, her cell phone starts ringing, the imperial march as opposed to her normal one, which damnit means SHIELD is calling. With a curse she digs her phone out of her pocket and answers the call.
“What now? Did Jane blow up the lab again I swear-“
“Ms. Lewis this is Agent Ramirez from SHIELD. Please state your user confirmation password.” The agent isn’t someone she know, but that’s nothing new. Normally Darcy would spend a few minutes yanking this guys chain, but he sounds almost out of breath, tense.
“Give me my iPod back you fuckers.” Darcy says, reaching over to retrieve her pen. She clicks the end of it rapid fire, in a nervous habit she hasn’t been able to break. There’s a long pause on the other end of the line, as the agent probably double, then triple checks that yes, that is her official ‘all is well, I’m not in danger or a replacement alien clone’ pass code.
“Thank you Ms. Lewis. A situation has arisen and for your own safety you need to come back to headquarters immediately.” The agent says, sounding distracted. In the background, she can hear the rapid clicking of keys and the mummer of conversation.
“What kind of situation? And why do I need to go back now?” Darcy says, waving the waiter over. She mouths ‘check please’ at him, clicking her pen all the while. She may not be a fancy super assassin, but she gets that she’s worked with Jane long enough to be become a target for the desperate and stupid. It’s like people don’t understand the difference between ‘political science’ and ‘actual science.’ The waiter comes back and she manages not to throw her card at him to rush the process along.
“I’m afraid I can’t discuss that right now. We’re sending a plane for you, and it should be there within the hour. I ask that you be ready to go, and contact no one until you’re back at headquarters.” The agent’s voice varies in volume a few times, as if he’s turning his head and moving around. She hears a muffled exclamation in the background and the sound of running feet. As the waiter comes back with the receipt, she sits up straight, tense and on edge. Whatever is going on, it seems pretty big.
“Okay, but there’s not an airport within like three hours of here.” She says, clenching her fingers tight around the pen.
“There’s a private landing strip on the north side of town, we’ll be sending directions to your phone. Thank you for your cooperation Ms. Lewis.” With that the agent hangs up, leaving Darcy to listen to crackling static with a sinking sensation in her stomach. So, okay, awesome. Her phone beeps to let her know she has a new multimedia message and she opens it with absolutely steady fingers. It’s directions to what’s probably a deer trail and dirt path landing strip, but whatever that’s not her problem. There’s also a picture of the pilot and the pass code he should give her before entering the plane. She shivers, her hair standing on end as she stares down at the screen. For one, what the fuck is she supposed to do if he answers incorrectly? Taze him and run? For another, is this normal? Do scientist wranglers always merit this sort of cloak and dagger treatment?
She glances outside through the window, to see Steve with his phone pressed to his hear, pacing back and forth. His demeanor is for foreign to her, it’s like his whole body has changed. For one, that jaw of his could probably cut granite it’s clenched so tightly, and his expression is closed off in a way she’s never seen. It’s not inapt on him, but it’s still unnerving to see her funny and sometimes uncertain Steve like that. For two, his movements were always smooth, but now he’s moving with an economy of motion that reminds her of her old ex-boyfriend, the cage fighter.
She has a sneaking, nasty, sort of suspicion that their two emergencies are linked, but she doubts SHIELD agents would take risks like going to hotel rooms with random women. And SHIELD has no reason keep underhanded tabs on her now that she’s under their thumb anyway. She dismisses the thought for now, and stands up. She grabs his napkin drawing to fold it in half, and walks out of the restaurant. She’s surprisingly not freaked out by this secret emergency thing. Steve is still pacing a few yards away, his free hand clenched into a fist.
She thinks that she probably should be scared, that her heart should be beating fast and her thoughts muddled, but mostly she’s just cranky. Steve hangs up and shoves his phone into his pocket, motions sharp. Seeing her, his face lights up, and it’s such an odd picture. He’s still tense, agitated, and while seeing her seems to genuinely make him happy, he doesn’t relax. She wonders what he’ll tell her his job is. And again, maybe it should upset her that he probably can’t, or won’t tell her what’s actually going on. But he’s shared with her so much of himself already, and she thinks, she knows that’s not something that happens often, if at all. It’s not something to be taken lightly. And also, it’s not like she’ll be telling him where’s she’s going, or why. He crosses the distance between them in a few long strides, coming to a halt well within her personal space.
“Problems?” She asks, reaching out to snag his hand. He intertwines their fingers and lets out a long breath. Somehow, he seems bigger, like he’s taking up for space than he was a few minutes ago. He smiles and squeezes her fingers.
“Unfortunately. Can’t leave them alone for five damn minutes, I swear.”
“I have to head back early- I’m so sorry.” His expression is equal parts sorrow and anger, which is an interesting combination. Darcy smiles at him, tugging on his hand to pull him closer. He bends down for her, and she presses a kiss to his lips, light and quick. She tucks his napkin doodle into his pocket and grins at his surprised expression.
“It’s okay, life happens, I get that.” She says, winding her arm through his. They start walking back to the hotel, faster than before.
“I just- wanted more time with you.” He says, sounding as bitter and frustrated as she feels, and it’s almost a physical pain to hear. She pulls him to a stop and leans up to kiss him. His hands fly up to cup her face, and he deepens the kiss with a groan. It’s desperate and messy, Steve all but curling around her, his big frame almost vibrating with tension. When she finds it hard to breathe, she pulls back with a gasp, but he follows, making a low distressed sound. She shushes him and buries her fingers in his hair, feeling out of control and too broken up over a man she scarcely knows.
“We’ll see each other again in New York, I promise. This isn’t a big deal.” She whispers, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. He pulls back enough to look her in the eyes, his expression troubled. There’s something she’s missing, something big, but this isn’t the time or place to deal with it. His expression is pinched with worry, like he wants to believe her, but can’t. So Darcy digs her hand into his pocket, ignoring his started expression and fishes his phone out. The StarkPhone looks brand new, as if he doesn’t use it often. She finds his contact lists and adds herself, before holding it up for him to see. He grins, looking a little less tense. And because there’s that feeling, like she’s missing a huge piece of the puzzle, she calls herself from his phone as proof. Once she disconnects the call she puts the phone back in his pocket, flexing her fingers against his hip for good measure. He ducks down to kiss her again, his whole body centered on hers. They probably could stand there for hours and exchange these deep, lush kisses, but then his phones beeps, loud and insistent. Whatever moment they were building shatters as he pulls back, tense and coiled once more.
“I have to go, I’m sorry.” He says, grabbing her hand and walking fast down the sidewalk. The hotel isn’t far away, and the fact that he’s wants to spend a few more stolen minutes with her before taking off makes her all a flutter.
“S’cool sweetie, life happens. Just call me when you’re back in New York.” She says, bumping her arm against his. He nods, ducking in for one last lingering kiss before taking off at a jog. She watches him go with an anxious, fluttery feeling in her chest. He disappears from sight and Darcy walks after him, pointedly not running, because this is not a rom-com and that shit isn’t romantic. By the time she makes it back to her hotel room, Steve’s motorcycle is gone from the parking lot. She packs as fast as she can, throwing the lube and condoms into her bag with a sense of smug pride. After a hasty checkout, she loads up her car and heads towards the north side of town. As her phone leads her down what is totally a deer trail, she sees a black, unmarked, helicopter zoom overhead. Huh.